


The Battle Born Boys

by whiskeynwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Bullying, Depression, Disfiguration, Drama, Fire, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hippies, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Letters, M/M, Pain, Racism, Redemption, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Vietnam, Violence, burn scars, drug usage, outcasts, precher's son Castiel, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeynwings/pseuds/whiskeynwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester sends his sons down to CedarVille Alabama to live with their Aunt Ellen and Cousin Jo, after a fire leaves Dean disfigured and The family without a home. But Dean has spiraled into a deep depression and started to consider taking his life. On the day of his supposed suicide, his younger brother Sam nearly drowns in the lake behind his aunt's house. A local preacher's son named Castiel saves Sam’s life, and he befriends Dean. Telling him 'everyone has scars'. As time goes on their relationship spirals into something much more profound as Dean discovers himself through Castiel, and realizes that love comes in all different shapes and sizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle Born Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Idea originally from Tumblr, I shaped it into my own story. 
> 
> I do not own the characters.
> 
> Do not copy or post anywhere else.
> 
> Updates regularly. 
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated. 
> 
> I don't know a lot about hospitals or medical stuff so bear with me. 
> 
> The prologue happens a little fast in order for the story to progress regularly. 
> 
> Rude comments will be deleted. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Summer 1961

"You expect me to believe you fell off your bike?" Amelia Novak regarded her son warily. He'd come home with a black eye and a busted lip, claiming he fell from his bike. He wouldn't have. She knew he wouldn't fall so easily. 

"Yes, I was admiring a couple blue birds I saw and did not notice the pothole until I fell." Amelia shook her head as she dabbed the peroxide on his wound, he hissed, blue eyes wide and red rimmed with tears, she wished he'd just tell the truth. Just once. Once de finished cleaning him she kissed his forehead and brushed her fingers over his cheek. At seventeen he already had stubble, it saddened her to see him growing up before her eyes. Her sweet first born. 

"Be careful Castiel please. I couldn't bear to lose you," Castiel stood with his mother, she patted his shoulder, "we'll tell your father at supper." Castiel nodded and left the kitchen, walking quickly to his bedroom. 

It'd been Alastair and his cronies again. Try liked to chase him home from school and throw things at him. Today they just chased his bike and tore him off it, opting to give him a 'proper beating' instead of just throwing not things at him. Alastair had spit on him and kicked his bike before walking off with his friends. Castiel kept telling himself he only had a few more months, just a few more and he'd be off to Berkeley in California, away from the low lives that bullied and beat him. 

He shut his door quietly, twisting the lock and going to his bed, he sank down in it gratefully, happy that it'd been the last day of school and he would now have at least a little peace. He had a job this summer, working at Bobby Singer's auto shop. Cars weren't exactly his forte, but he hopes by working there he'd appear tougher, more masculine, if he was more manly maybe they'd leave him alone. 

He laid back on his bed with a sigh, relishing in the plush mattress beneath his back. He didn't cry anymore when he was finally alone. He'd been dealing with bullies for so long now he was numb. But he was lonely, and he knew the summer would only consist of bullies, work and family, it made his heart sink. He loved his family, was excited for his job and would avoid Alastair the best he possibly could...But he wanted a friend, someone who would understand him. 

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. 

"God. If you're there, please give me a friend. I know that's a lot to ask but I'm tired. I don't want to be alone anymore. Please bring me a friend." 

Little did he know God has a funny way of answering our prayers.

~0~0~

"Sam come on!" Dean shouted. He felt dizzy, it was hot and smoke wafted through the halls and rooms of his house. He didn't know when the fire started, but he didn't have time to think about it either. He needed to get his brother to safety. "Sam!"

"Dean help me!" Dean followed the sound of his brother's voice, covering his mouth with his hand and squinting in the smoky air, he saw Sam, staggering out of a hall closet, Dean reached for him and pulled him close, covering the younger boy with his body as he pushed him towards the door. 

"Go!" Dean shouted, shoving Sam out of the door, Sam fell on the front lawn, coughing and rolling over onto his back. Dean smiled, relieved for a moment before a searing pain shot up his leg. 

"Oh fuck!" He flailed, whirling around as the flames spiked up his leg. Sam screamed in terror, jumping up to help Dean only to be shoved away. Dean dropped to the ground, crumpling over in pain, he felt his skin blistering and falling away, he screamed in agony and rolled as best he could. 

The last thing he remembered was the scuffs on Sam's converse. 

~0~0~

"The burns span up the side of his body and onto the left side of his face. He'll carry them the rest of his life but he'll live..."

It was dark. Dean felt something soft beneath his head and the smell of antiseptics and cleaning supplies wafted into his nostrils. He moaned and shifted, gritting his teeth as pain shot up the side of his leg once more. He wiggled his fingers and wiggled his toes. He was alive, and someone was sitting by his bed, his fingers brushed past the soft strands of (hair?) once more. 

He opened his eyes, or his eye, as best he could. 

He was in a hospital, white sheets and blankets covering his body, one arm out wi an IV stuck in his vein, and Sammy, Sammy was next to his bed, arms folded and face buried in the mattress, his body moves slightly, allowing Dean the comfort of knowing he was alive. He smiled and ran his fingers through Sam's hair. Sam groaned and lifted his head. 

"Dean," his voice was full of sleep but his eyes were bright and filled with relief, he leaned over and kissed his brother's cheek, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. "Thought we lost you...." Sam's voice quakes as he choked back tears, "thought we lost you like we lost mom." Dean reached up and wrapped his arm around Sam, holding him tighter to his body, the floodgates broke and Sam sobbed into Dean's hospital gown, clutching at him tightly. Dean shushed him and cooed, trying to calm him. He couldn't feel the left side of his face, nor see out of that eye, a bandage covered it, but he wondered what happened. 

"Sammy..." His voice was still raw from the smoke, Sam pulled back, tears glistening in his eyes. "Sammy what happened?"

"You were on fire Dean. The house caught fire and you got me out...But when you came out there was fire on your leg, it spread up and you managed to get it out after a while but..." Sam trailed off, averting his gaze, Dean felt his spine tingle and fear grip his stomach, churning it violently. 

"But what? Sammy?" He grabbed Sam's shoulder and shook him gently. 

"There was so much fire Dean....you got...It-"

"Good to see you're awake." Sam was cut off as a man in blue scrubs and their father teetered the room. John's face was pale and his eyes trained on the ground. The doctor was an older man, pudgy and balding. He smiled at Dean, it was obviously faked, practiced and used on all his patients. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened to me?" The doctor tsked and looked through a clipboard that was on the end of Dean's bed. 

"You suffered third degree burns on the left side of your body. We managed to ease the pain for you a little with morphine, but you'll carry the scars for the rest of your life." Dean's mouth felt dry and his heart fell into his stomach. He reached up and touched the bandages on his face, wincing at the thought of how he must look. 

"How...How far up?"

"Just slightly over your cheekbone. Not enough to cause nerve damage in your eye, you'll be able to see just fine." The doctor sighed and set the clipboard back down. He patted John on the shoulder. "I'll be by in the morning to check in." With that he left the room. 

Dean's head fell back against the pillows in disbelief. He wiggled his fingers and his toes once more. They were there. They were okay. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes and he felt the bed dip as his father sat beside him. Dean turned his face away in shame. 

"Dean...I'm sorry..." But Dean wasn't listening. He felt himself slipping. So many things he wouldn't be able to do. Wouldn't be able to have. A darkness opened up within him. He allowed it to swallow him whole.


End file.
